


The Sun is Shining, Hey Hey

by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)



Series: FFXV Time Travel and Dimension Travel [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Episode Ardyn Spoilers, Family, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, No Romance, Salty Ardyn, Salty Noctis, Sorry guys, Spoilers, Starts at the End of the Game, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, they're both horribly salty, this isn't going to be a fluffy romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortescryche/pseuds/Adel%20Mortescryche
Summary: Bahamut was a filthy liar.Noctis didn’t have any other explanations for what had happened to him. He’d lain Ardyn to rest once and for all, he’d forced himself to turn away from Gladio, Ignis and Prompto before they all walked to their own, respective deaths, and surrendered himself to the will of the Ring and the Astrals, and after blowing Ardyn’s eternally immortal spirit and his own to smithereens…He’d woken up just in time to see his nanny and his younger self get cut down by a fuckingMarilith.





	1. Chapter 1

The funny thing was, for all that his father had always spoken fondly of his mother, Noct didn’t actually remember her too well. She’d died when he’d been a baby, after all. And the only mother he’d known after that had been his nanny.

And his  _nanny,_ well… His nanny had died when their retinue had been attacked on the way back from the Vesperpool, after all. While Noct… Noct had been rescued by his Uncle.

The memory of Sol yelling hoarsely as he slew the Marilith was the first real memory Noct had; much of his older memories had faded in the trauma of the attack. Noct might very well have faded himself if his Uncle hadn’t appeared as abruptly as he had, first killing the demon and then hurriedly falling on his knees by Noct’s side, pressing a high elixir into his hands.

“Come on,  _come on,_ ” Noct remembered him saying, whispering it feverishly, even as other people arrived on the scene, loud and violent.

“Father?” Noct had whispered, faint, and till this day, Noct could still remember how stricken his Uncle had looked when he’d said that.

*

Bahamut was a filthy liar.

Noctis didn’t have any other explanations for what had happened to him. He’d lain Ardyn to rest once and for all, he’d forced himself to turn away from Gladio, Ignis and Prompto before they all walked to their own, respective deaths, and surrendered himself to the will of the Ring and the Astrals, and after blowing Ardyn’s eternally immortal spirit and his own to smithereens…

He’d woken up just in time to see his nanny and his younger self get cut down by a fucking  _Marilith._

“Like I said,” he sighed irately, arms crossed and leaning back in his chair, staring straight at the map of Lucis on the wall opposite him. “You  _really_ wouldn’t believe me. Even if I told you.”

“Try me,” Regis replied, voice hard, standing by the window to Noctis’ left. “It can’t be more ludicrous than what I’m imagining right now.”

It made Noct give an ugly snort, lips curling up in a nasty smile. Never let it be said that Ardyn hadn’t managed to infect him at least somewhat with his horrible sense of humor.

“You have to admit, it isn’t going to take much to accept that he’s related in some way to the royal line,” Weskham said mildly, just the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The words had Noctis raising his brows, staring at his father’s Hand, leaning companionably against the wall by the desk. Wesk had seemed a lot more laid back than Iggy, when they’d met for the first time at Maagho, but Noctis hadn’t anticipated that his attitude would carry right on over to his behavior even while still working in Insomnia.

…Wesk had said that he hadn’t seen Noctis since he’d been a babe. And Noctis hadn’t been able to tell any differently, not when he barely remembered anything of his boyhood before the attack that had left him in a wheelchair.

Should Noctis feel all touched that Regis had rushed his old Hand back to Insomnia, just for little ol’ him? Hm.

Weskham’s lips twitched suspiciously, but he glanced back towards Regis, waiting.

They remained silent for a long, charged moment that Noctis spent with his ‘i dare you to fuck with me’ face on, holding a staring match with the map on the wall. Finally, he heard Regis sigh, audibly thumping his head against the window.

“Just. Confirm for me whether or not my royal Father gave rise to a secondary line or not.”

Noctis blinked, taking a second to actually work that awkward sentence out, before spit-taking, and bending over with a hearty snort of laughter right after.

“I should hope not!” he gasped out. “This star really doesn’t need more Lucis Caelums. We’ve mucked it up enough as it is.”

Wesk gave a broad grin at that, but he didn’t speak out loud, apparently satisfied with letting the King handle the discussion. Regis, for his part, gave a frustrated sigh, but he moved back to the front of the room, going as far as to perch on a corner of his desk to peer down at Noctis.

“Clearly you consider yourself to be of my bloodline. Can you prove it?” he asked, amicably enough. Noctis might have been fooled if he didn’t know his father’s moods as well as he did; Regis’ eyes were as cold as the Glacian’s breath.

Noctis propped his elbows on his knees, and set his chin on his cupped palms, smiling obnoxiously.

“I don’t have to. Ask the Ring. Or Bahamut, for all I care. He’s the one who got me into this mess in the first place.”

That? Was unexpected enough that Weskham lost his smile, while Regis straightened in place, a thunderous frown breaking out over his face. Noctis didn’t have to wait long, though. The Ring of the Lucii began to shine, and between one moment to the next, Regis went from looking suspicious to looking spellbound.

“Providence?” he whispered, wonderingly.

Noctis rolled his eyes, and slouched in his seat. King of a dead Kingdom or not, he deserved the chance to be comfortable. Especially after everything he’d gone through. As Iggy would have put it, he was practically running on fumes; the only reason he hadn’t burst into tears when he’d seen Regis was the fact that, for one, he wasn’t Noctis’ dad, not the one he’d been forced to leave behind in  _his_ Insomnia. And, for another, he was honestly too mentally exhausted to care.

Hell, even Ardyn wouldn’t inspire more than a foul curse word and a demand to be left alone so he could get some actual sleep in an actual bed, for once, right then.

“They refuse to share your identity,” Regis explained, still looking a touch awed. “But Bahamut wills that you are to be trusted.”

Well, good for him. Bahamut could kiss Noctis’ ass, for all he cared.

He’d been told to martyr himself for the star and instead he’d had to go and rescue his mini-me’s hide as soon as he’d reached the Astralsphere. Even Prompto couldn’t top how salty Noctis felt right then.

“I do believe our guest needs to rest, Reg,” Weskham cut in. “Maybe we could provide him with guest quarters for the night, and figure out what to do later?”  _And if he’s stuck in the Citadel, he can’t leave until we allow it,_ was what went unsaid, Noctis could tell.

Well, whatever. You’d think they’d be warier about a prisoner and guest that could warp – but then,  _Regis’_ administration had never had to face enemies with the same powers as them. Unlike Noctis, who’d had to figure out how to fight an enemy that had an armiger of his own. And could warp, too, which had been an absolute pain in the ass to counter. At least he could fully empathize with Prompto’s complaints whenever he got the upper hand because of his warp skills, now.

“Very well,” Regis sighed. “A room, and bed, and possibly a meal, if you so wish it. It  _is_ the least I could do, for the savior of my son, whatever your reasons.”

“Thanks for that,” Noctis said, a touch sullen, but in his defense, he was exhausted. At least the tone did the job of amusing not only Weskham, but Regis as well.

*

Dawn was finally breaking, outside the citadel. Noctis found himself pulling to a stop by one of the floor to ceiling windows on the way to his room, waving away the suspicious muttering it earned him from the Crownsguard members who’d been tasked with seeing him to the guest wing. Noctis relaxed where he stood, feeling something in his chest loosen when the light touched the windows, the sight of it warming him even when it was too pale to do much.

Somewhere, in the future, or in some other Eos, light was streaming down on a star that had been forced into darkness for ten long years.

Noctis had resigned himself to missing it, there. Had resigned himself to never seeing daylight again, in the lands of the living. But here he was, against everything he’d expected

Here he was, all alone, with neither his friends, nor his enemies at his side.

His father had left him, early on. Luna and Ravus had journeyed ahead to the beyond well before him. Even Ardyn had given his word to be waiting, the Accursed as ever bound to the whims of the Astrals and the King of Kings, though Noctis hardly thought of himself as such.

Noctis had even left his friends behind, content in the thought that they would see each other again, on the other side.

Yet here he was, standing alone, in spite of everything, in the light of the light of an alien sun.

“Sir?” one of the guards asked, wary.

“Sol,” Noctis replied, lips spreading in a beatific smile, as he stared down the sphere of light rising higher into the sky. “Call me Sol.”

“Sir.” Said the other guard, sounding bemused.

Noctis snorted, and turned his back on the window, following after the guards without another word


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Whoa, guys, did _not_ expect the kind of enthusiasm I got for the first chapter. Clearly I wasn't the only one in the mood for salty time travel. XDD)

Regis… wasn’t quite sure what to make of Sol.

_ Providence,  _ in the words of the old kings. The younger man seemed to have a smile ready on his face, and a quip primed to be shot out of his lips, but for all his snide humor and light hearted attitude, Regis would have to be a fool to not tell that his shoulders were deeply weighed down. By what, it had been impossible to tell, in the course of a single meeting, but Wesk agreed with what he’d observed.

“Whether a good or bad, he’s clearly a man willing to risk life and limb on account of someone else.” Weskham declared, over a finger of aged Lucian whiskey. “One does not take on a daemon as dangerous as a Marilith, or the rest of her ilk, simply for fun, or to manipulate.”

“Well, you never know. The man actually managed to take her down. And he did it soon enough that the deed was complete well before we reached Noctis’ retinue. And I don’t know about you, but that’s suspect enough for me.” Clarus bit out, scowling as usual over his glass of Tenebraen red.

“I’m with the Shield. You’ve got to admit, it’s at least a  _ little  _ suspicious, Your Majesty.” Cor muttered, arms crossed and frown heavy, preferring to stay sober and keep an eye on the lot of ‘old men’, as he liked to put it.

Regis sighed, and slumped in his armchair. He agreed with both Clarus and Cor; it was why he’d ordered Sol brought to his study, to question him in close quarters.

But he also agreed with Weskham. Regis had seen the look on Sol’s face, when the elixir had finally dispersed into Noctis’ veins. And as a father, he could tell – Sol had been just as terrified as Regis himself in the split second before the elixir was recognized by Noct’s burgeoning magic.

“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, for now,” Regis said finally. “Clarus. Order Drautos to send in some of his best glaives to keep an eye on both Noctis and Sol. The Crownsguard are strong, but I would prefer to have the support of Kingsglaive as well, if Sol turns out to have ill intentions.”

“Some faith would be good, Reggie,” Clarus said, rolling his eyes, and Wesk gave a fond chuckle, tipping his glass Clarus’ way.

“Spoken like a truly crotchety old man. Cid would be proud.”

Cor barked out a laugh, and pushed himself back to his feet.

“Don’t say that too loudly, or Cid’ll find some way to head back here and bounce that hammer of his off of our skulls. I’ll pass the word on to Drautos, Your Majesty. It will be done.”

“Thank you, Cor. You’re clearly the only one I can trust amongst this lot.” Regis said, making Cor laugh again, while Wesk and Clarus both protested loudly.

“Gentlemen, we’ve been up worrying for far too long. And I don’t know about you, but I, for one, have an ailing son whose side I would prefer to be at right now. Dismissed.”

“Your Majesty.” Weskham and Clarus both said, sobering up immediately, while Cor ducked his head in a polite bow.

“I can walk you up to Noctis’ room, Your Majesty,” Cor offered, and Regis smiled tiredly, pushing himself to his feet.

“I would appreciate that, Cor. Thank you.”

The expression that twitched to life on Cor’s face reminded Regis almost painfully of the boy who’d stowed away in the Regalia when he’d first set out past Insomnia’s Wall, to learn more about the great beyond. He’d returned a changed man, they all had, but Regis had never regretted it one bit – and neither had Cor. Not even when it had made him grow up too fast, and far sooner than any of them could really have wanted, in the end.

*

Cor delivered him to Noctis’ room post-haste, leaving with a sharp salute that had Regis chuckling in spite of himself, even as he knocked on Noct’s door, waited a moment, before gingerly stepping in.

His son was lying in bed, swaddled in sheets, with a watered down potion set up in an intravenous drip. Regis watched him from the door for a long moment, before sighing to himself, and carefully pulling the door shut behind him so he could go to Noctis’ side.

The doctors had said that they’d been lucky Noctis’ young body hadn’t reacted negatively to the elixir Sol had used on him. They had also, hesitatingly, confirmed that, had Sol not used the elixir when he had, Noct might very well have been disabled, if not dead outright by the time they would have managed to get him back to Insomnia for high level treatment. One of the nurses had hesitatingly brought up that there had been signs of fractured vertebrae being healed by the elixir before the head doctor had shot her a hard look and she had subsided. Regis hadn’t needed much more than that to know just how bad off Noctis’ condition had been before Sol had reached him.

The name was strange. Clearly an alias of some sort, but Regis doubted that it had been picked casually. The glaives who had taken Sol to the guest wing had reported how amused he'd seemed when he'd been offering his name.

Regis gingerly  lowered himself so he could sit by Noctis’ side on the bed, leery of waking him.  It was for naught, though, for Noctis’ eyes sprang open immediately, the shift in pressure distributed on the bed enough to jerk him awake.

“Noctis.  _ Noct.  _ It's me, son, calm down," Regis breathed, trying not to startle him. 

Something about the effort must have worked, because Noct sank bad into the bed, eyelids flickering feverishly until Noct finally managed to keep them open so he could peer up at his father blearily.

“Dad?" 

“Son.” Regis repeated, bending over so he could press a kiss to Noctis’ forehead, closing his eyes in relief, and pressing their foreheads together.

“Daaaaad," Noct whined, voice reedy and weak, and Regis laughed in spite of himself, feeling an ache deep inside his chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smiling down at his boy, and Noct made a face at him, looking exhausted. 

“Tired,” he grumbled. “Sleepy. Isn’t it late, dad? Why’re you here?”

“Am I not allowed to worry for my boy?”

Noct blinked up at him, seemingly startled, before his cheeks went pink, and he tiredly shoved a hand in Regis’ chest, his lips twitching as though he was fighting a smile.

“Dad, you’re so cheesy.” he said, and Regis pressed another kiss to his forehead before pulling away, grinning down at the way it made Noct stick his lower lip out in a pout.

“I’ll go back to my rooms, now that I’m sure that you’re well. Unless you want me to spend the night here?”

Noct squinted, considering that, before darting a shy look up at him.

“I know I’m a big boy,” he said, and Regis tried not to grin wider at the declaration, “but… I’d really like it if you stayed with me. Just until I fall asleep!”

“Of course, Noct. Anything.” Regis replied, and shifted so he could properly seat himself at Noctis’ side. 

Noct smiled sleepily up at him, and twisted his fingers into Regis’ trousers, pulling at the strings of his heart all over again.

“‘Night, dad,” Noct said, closing his eyes, his smile broading when Regis gently ruffled his hair.

“Good night, son.”

This wouldn’t be allowed to happen again. Regis would make sure Noct would be better guarded, either by the Crownsguard and glaives or by his own set of retainers. Clarus’ son was already in training, Clarus and the Amicitia family values all but ensuring that the boy would already be formidable, and capable of leading Noctis out of danger if it came down to it. The Scientia family was much the same, even if  _ their  _ values meant that Ignis had grown up learning a very different skill set from Gladiolus. Even if Ignis’ father was no longer among them, Ignis had continued to train with the crownsguard. All Regis would have to do was bid him to spend more time shadowing Noct than simply functioning as a well trained listening ear.

Never again. Regis would do everything in his power to ensure that Noct would never be harmed again. Not on his watch.

*

Noctis, when he woke up the next morning, found himself blinking blearily at the ceiling, and finding it too pristine even for a hotel room. Or, at least, any hotel room other than the one he'd stated at in Altissia, right before he had to head to the altar, to watch Luna's speech.

_ Insomnia,  _ he thought, tiredly. Fatalistically.  _ I'm in Insomnia. _

_ Infernian's Fury, Bahamut, whatever you'd expect of me after that last battle, couldn't you have figured out anything other than sending me back to the past? If this was even  _ planned,  _ for fuck's sake. _

That bit of whining out of the way, he shoved himself up on his elbows, staring around himself. The guest room he'd been led to the previous night looked the exact same as it had, back then. Far more opulent than Noctis had had any reasonable to expect in a  _ while.  _ The road trip and guerilla war he'd raged against the imperials had trained him out of expecting a comfortable bed and fancy digs every night, and then the time spent in the crystal had trained expectations for anything even  _ remotely  _ human out of him.

It was  _ hard _ to make himself keep moving, though. Not when he still had the memories of his friends solemnly bowing to him, wishing him well one last time before turning around and walking away to their own deaths. 

There had been a  _ reason  _ they’d all been so certain they would have seen each other on the other side. 

Noctis wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d decided to give up on him and his memory; would only have blamed himself and the Draconian because all of this could be laid at that pompous Astral ass’ armored feet. But they had been just as tired as him, by the time they’d met again. Possibly more tired than Noctis himself, after everything they’d gone through, trying to keep Eos alive while Noctis was gathering the power to face up against Ardyn once and for all.  

But, no. Here Noctis was, all alone. Yet again. With no chance at rest, as he’d been promised.

_ Poor little Prince. Isn’t it lonely, all on your own, with no one to care? _

Fuck you very much, Ardyn. Bahamut. And literally anyone else who had been responsible in the slightest for all that Noctis, Luna, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto had been forced to go through.

The flicker of spite running through him did what the need to locate a washroom and, later, food, had not.  And hello to bodily functions that were  _ still _ just as awkward to relearn here as they had been at the Hammerhead

Once he was done with his morning ablutions and patting down his face once he took the chance to wash it, Noctis frowned thoughtfully at his reflection, taking it in. The mirrors in the washroom at the Hammerhead had been shattered beyond repair, so he hadn’t actually had the chance to take a look at himself, after waking up on Angelgard. The sight of the beard and his changed jawline was… Mildly unnerving.

Noctis had never bothered to experiment with facial hair. It had always been too sparse, when he’d been a teen - and even a single glance at Gladio had been enough to tell him he didn’t want to have to deal with being teased within an inch of his life because of  _ scanty facial hair  _ on top of his bungle ups in the training salles. But ten years had been enough for a solid growth to set in. He could see why the mini-me had gotten him confused with Regis, even if that confusion had  _ hurt _ . Heck, it explained why Regis had been worried about  _ his  _ had having had bastards. And Noctis, that is,  _ Sol,  _ being one of said bastards.

He squinted at himself, wondering whether or not he should bother shaving it off, then realized that it was probably a bad idea. Even if his jawline seemed to have changed from the more tapered look he’d had as a teen, Noctis suspected shaving would make him look less like Regis and more like  _ himself.  _ Which could be a supremely bad idea, when it came down to it.

Sure, it wasn’t like Noctis cared all that much if the headlines of papers in Insomnia started caterwauling about time travel, but he really didn’t want to have to fight Ardyn all over again quite so soon. His scythe had been exhausting - not to mention the ancient magic attacks.

Ignis probably would have  _ loved  _ a chance to pick Ardyn’s brain about Solheim and ancient magical theory. Sucked that  _ Noctis  _ had been the one who’d been given impromptu practical lessons.

Nodding at himself, Noctis headed off to shower, figuring he could find another set of clothes floating around in the armiger. Whatever else might have happened to him, time travel didn’t seem to have messed with his ability to find things he’d tucked away in his magical pocket. Thankfully.

He could hunt down a meal once he was done. And maybe Regis and the kid him, too. And then start figuring out what, exactly, he was supposed to do.

Noctis voted in favor of fishing. Heck, he could probably teach the mini-me some tricks that even their dad hadn’t managed to figure out. Noctis had managed to catch both the Arapaima and Dread Grouper. He’d even managed to catch the  _ Pink Gar _ ; Regis couldn’t boast that, now could he.

So, yeah. Fishing. Done. 

The Draconian and the Prophecy could go hang for all he cared.

*

There had been a long, sinking moment during which Nyx had been very sure he was in trouble.

For  _ what,  _ he had no fucking clue. But trouble, all the same, because he got ordered to come in to Drautos’ office and had run into the  _ Immortal  _ leaning against a wall inside.

You’d think mandatory leave wouldn’t be exciting. Nyx had been sure he’d be stuck looking forward to an endless stream of days where he had to stuff everything that made him  _ him  _ inside a tight little box, lock it and throw away the key - at least until he left for the other side of the Wall again. Relearn to be  _ genteel  _ and  _ urbane.  _ Since that’s what Insomnia and the Citadel expected of him. But apparently not.

“So, this is the glaive you picked?” Cor was asking Drautos. 

Drautos nodded back, running a considering gaze up and down. Nyx made himself remain at parade rest. 

The Immortal was looking for glaives? For what reason, though? Nyx’ contract stated that he wouldn’t be transferred over to the Crownsguard unless he was damaged irreparably during his stint in Kingsglaive. He’d been able to bounce back from nearly everything that had come at him in the three years that he had been part of the Ops, and honestly, Nyx had seen worse back home in the mountains. Sparring with older Hunters and Hunter hopefuls in the river valley had been more dangerous than a  _ lot  _ of the training he’d seen since he and Libertus had joined up with Kingslaive for a roof over their heads.

He supposed not much could face up to the Hunters from back home. 

He wasn’t dumb enough to actually say that out loud, though. Not with Cor the fucking Immortal staring him down, looking thoughtful.

“When does he need to head back to the front?” Cor asked, and Drautos shrugged, shooting a nastily amused look Nyx’ way.

“Whenever his Majesty’s willing to send him back, I guess.”

Cor snorted at that, and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“Guess we’ll have to see. Let’s give it till his leave runs out, at any rate. Thanks, Drautos. Ulric, with me.”

“Sir.” Nyx saluted Drautos, and followed Cor out the door, still feeling confused.

“I assume you and the rest of Kingsglaive already heard about the attack on the Prince yesterday evening?” Cor asked him, as they walked, and Nyx almost stumbled to a stop, wincing and forcing his feet to move when Cor shot a coolly amused look over his shoulder Nyx’ way.

“Yes, Commander.” Nyx replied. 

He didn’t ask for clarification, figuring he would receive it without having to ask. Bahamut’s breath, he could see where this was headed. And mandatory leave or not, Nyx hadn’t joined Kingsglaive to be stuck in the  _ citadel.  _ He could have directly applied for a post to the Crownsguard, if that was what he wanted.

Nyx was supposed to kill daemons, and get revenge for his people. Not play house with the boy prince, of all things.

Cor looked oddly pitying, for some reason, but he kept going anyway.

“His Majesty decided that his Highness requires better protection.” Cor said. “We felt it best to turn to the glaives, because Kingsglaive has better practical training with magic and daemons than most of Crownsguard does. And seeing as the last attack on the Prince’s retinue involved a Marilith…”

Nyx nodded seriously. He had to admit, it  _ did  _ make sense to bring Kingsglaive in on the situation when there were daemons involved. Crownsguard was more suited to crowd control and espionage. Which, again, were the main reasons why Nyx hadn’t wanted anything to do with them. He’d lost his opportunity to become a Hunter like the rest of his family, after the Nifs had come down on Galahd and wiped everything out, but at least Kingsglaive had given Nyx a way to reconnect with his past.

“I’ll take you in to meet the Prince and the only other member of his future retainers that has been finalized. They’re both brats, at this point, but at least Ignis is serious about his future. Noctis is just very tired, and recovering from a severe back injury, so he might be a lot more irritable than he usually tends to be.”

Nyx frowned thoughtfully, focusing on the mention of the back injury than the fact that he was going to be responsible for what amounted to a pair of kids, formally trained nobles or not.

“...we heard that the Prince had been saved by a bystander prior to the King and Crownsguard appearing on-scene? Is that true, sir, or just a rumor?” he asked, curious.

Cor’s lips pursed, visibly displeased, but not at Nyx.

“So there are already rumors about Sol running through the Citadel and amongst the glaives, are there.”

“Well. You know how it goes with training salle gossip, sir. Nothing’s a secret.”

Cor snorted at that, and sent a wry grin Nyx’ way, an expression he returned with zero hesitation. It seemed like the Immortal really  _ was  _ one of them, even if he’d never had any reason to get formally involved with Kingsglaive.

“We’re still not very clear on who, exactly, he is, so another part of your duties will be to keep an eye on Sol, and carefully monitor any interactions between him and the prince. His Majesty has reason to believe that Sol is, or will be, an ally. But that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t also be a danger to your future charge. Be watchful, second lieutenant. The prince and the future of Lucis depend on it.”

“Sir!” 

Nyx stopped to salute, and Cor nodded at him, expression stern.

Conversation at an end, they continued their march through the corridors, heading for the royal family’s personal wing.

*

Breakfast brought with it more stares, this time from the staff, since Noctis had simply grabbed the glaive guarding his door by the elbow and demanded to be led to the kitchens so he could get something to eat. The cooks had been a mixture of panic-strunk and exasperated, insisting that they could have a meal readied for him in the dining hall, since that was where everyone  _ else  _ would be eating, too.

Noctis just laughed right in their faces, and insisted he wasn’t in the mood for a  _ royal  _ breakfast.

Having managed to grab a hold of some pastries for both himself and the bemused glaive following him about, Noctis wandered around, reacclimating himself to the Citadel. The roaming led him away from the residential wings, a fact that seemed to relieve his guard, and towards the training areas and the the larger library, closer to the basement. 

Chewing on a mouthful of pastry, strawberries and clotted cream, he wondered if he shouldn’t just spend the morning in a training room. Then again, he hadn’t exactly explained what he was capable of to Regis or Clarus, the previous night. Bahamut might have offered up the brusque explanation of  _ Providence,  _ but that was more a non-answer, the smug fuck. 

If Noctis was going to have to deal with Ardyn and the more dangerous members of his daemonic brood, then simply training his weapon skills wouldn’t be enough. No, Noctis would have to train his  _ magic.  _ More precisely, he would have to train his ability with the Ring of the Lucii, which he  _ no longer had in his grasp,  _ and the armiger chain. Maybe even try and locate the tombs of other Kings of Lucis; Ignis had said that the histories he’d read over the years suggested that some of the tombs had been lost. Some more training wouldn’t be amiss either, not when Ardyn could warp himself. And had had literal  _ millenia  _ to train the skill. 

So, ultimately, it was probably best if he avoided the training salles. No need to give old Drautos a heart attack. Or give Cor reasons to find a way to have him assassinated in his sleep.

Noctis was wrapped up enough in is thoughts that he ran straight into someone carrying a large pile of books in front of him. He managed to stay on his feet, shifting his center of gravity on instinct, but the other person wasn’t nearly as lucky, going down with a yelp, with books scattering everywhere. Noctis winced, and automatically got down on his knees to help the boy pick up his books again.

“Yikes, kid, didn’t mean to do that, are you o-”

Noctis broke off in the process of apologizing, his voice catching tight in his throat.

Ignis blinked back at him, a faint flush touching the apples of his cheeks. And this young one’s cheeks were actually round enough to be proper ‘apples’.

He was wearing round glasses, which was mildly weirding out, since Noctis had only known him to stick to a square shape over the years. His hair was down, and darker in color than Noctis remembered it being when he was in his twenties. Most unnervingly, though, Ignis was barely  _ ten.  _ The pile of books he’d been carrying in his arms had nearly been as tall as him.

“Master Scientia,” the glaive murmured, barely phased.

Ignis nodded politely up at the glaive, and shot Noctis himself an awkward, if inquisitive, look.

“You would be the man who saved my charge,” he said, direct, his words clear and formal, even if his tone was high pitched, audibly the voice of a child. “Thank you, sir.”

Noctis blinked down at him, took in his childish features, and begged his heart not to break itself in two, just because his own Iggy wasn’t around to look appreciative of this child’s unselfconscious words of gratefulness. Six, He wasn’t sure if Gladio was going to be better or worse than this - he hadn’t actually met Gladio until he’d returned from Tenebrae, the first time around. He barely remembered  _ Ignis  _ from before then; the round spectacle lenses must have been switched out before he’d made it back.

“You’re welcome,” Noctis replied, finally. “Would you like some help with the books?”

Ignis blinked up at him, visibly startled, before his lips twitched up in a small smile.

“His Highness asked me to help him conduct research on various kinds of daemons, and methods to counter them. And His Majesty suggested that I supplement his Highness’ reading with books of magic.” Ignis explained. “I’m afraid I might have picked up far too many books...” he added, at the end, looking awkward again.

Noctis cracked a wry grin, lifting the first few books into his arms and cheerfully shuffling them over to the glaive, who took them, looking bemused.

“Someone I know used to say that there can never be too many books, or too much research.” Noctis quipped. “Only too little, or unchannelized research. C’mon, we’ll help you carry these. I should probably stop by and present myself to Regis, at any rate, seeing as I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Ignis blinked up at him, wide-eyed, while the glaive cleared her throat in obvious disapproval for the use of Regis’ actual name. Noctis rolled his eyes, and lifted up some more books. No way was he calling this version of his dad ‘your majesty’ unless it had to be said in a public conference. Or sarcastically. Regis would just have to deal.

Noctis was as much the King of Lucis as Regis was, at this point. The Ring of the Lucii, the Crystal and the Astrals would all attest to that. It was another matter that Noctis simply didn’t want anything to do with  _ any  _ of them.

“This way,” Ignis said, and led them back the way they’d come.

*

By the time Regis managed to sneak away first from the main throne room, and then again from the paperwork Clarus had ensured would be delivered to his private study, he found that not only had Cor had enough time to collect a glaive to work as Noct’s guard in the forseeable future, but also that Sol had managed to find his way to Noct’s rooms. With Ignis in tow.

He paused for a long moment by the door, not sure what to make of the sight of Sol sitting and patiently reading from a  _ daemonology  _ book, of all things. And pausing to answer questions at the end of every passage, with both the glaives assigned to him and Noct waiting by the side, looking about as bemused as Regis felt.

“But what to do when we can’t actually carry weaponry that works against different weaknesses?” Ignis was asking, and Sol offered an unexpectedly boyish grin, shrugging casually.

“That would be the point at which elemental bombs become useful,” he replied, ignoring the way both the glaives had straightened up at that.

Understandably, as far as Regis was concerned.  _ They  _ weren’t privy to the knowledge that the Astrals had already confirmed Sol to be an ally through the Ring. Regis still had doubts about what or, rather,  _ who,  _ Sol was. And whether or not he was related to the line of Lucis Caelum. But that possibility was beginning to look more and more likely.

...it didn’t help that Sol looked so much like him. Even Clarus had remarked upon it, when Regis had stepped out of Noctis’ suite of rooms, and had found Clarus waiting to ferry Regis back to his own suite of rooms.

“Whoever he is,” Clarus had said, “he looks enough like you that he could claim to be your direct brother by blood, and none would think to question it. Was the Draconian willing to confirm to you whether or not Sol is capable of wielding magic?”

Regis hadn’t had an answer for him, then. Not when even remembering Bahamut’s voice make it feel like the world was vibrating out of shape before his eyes.

_ This is what remains.  _ He  _ is what remains. Providence, brought to life, the Light waxed full. The Light, brought to its knees. Regret, for what has Passed. _

Regret, Regis had wondered. What had Sol regretted, strongly enough for the  _ Bladekeeper  _ to remark on it? What had the Draconian witnessed, to say that the Light had fallen, and still sound as though He did not disapprove?

Was there really any way to measure the magic wielding ability of a man that Bahamut Himself had referred to as Providence brought to life?

So, no, Regis hadn't had an actual answer for Clarus then. But if Regis wasn’t mistaken, with how comfortable Sol seemed when giving his son and Ignis a lecture on daemons and magic, the other man might very well offer up an answers all on his own.

Comfortable in that thought, Regis nodded to himself, pushing the door open the rest of the way, and smiling when the action immediately brought the attention of everyone in Noctis’ common room to him.

Which would be the point when something crashed into the Citadel hard enough to its walls shake.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** In the words of Prompto, #sorrynotsorry re: the cliffhanger. [grins wryly]
> 
> Also, as a note on Older!Noctis, he will be referred to as Sol in other persons' POVs, but he will continue to refer to himself as Noctis in his own POV. Younger!Noctis is going to be referred to as Noct whenever I can get away with it, to lessen the confusion. Lemme know if you can't parse what's going on or whom I'm referring to at any point, and I will go back and edit!
> 
> Please consider leaving comments and kudos. They're very welcome. 
> 
> \---
> 
> You can find me **[@adelmortescryche](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com)** on Tumblr and at **[AdelMortescryche](https://www.pillowfort.io/AdelMortescryche)** on Pillowfort. Come hmu anytime.


	3. Chapter 3

Let it be said. There were very few things in the world quite as terrifying as watching a Lucis Caelum truly lose their shit.

And Crowe had to admit, whoever the heck Sol was, and wherever he’d come from, he had the look of a rampaging Lucis Caelum down right.

Between one fraction of a second and the next, Crowe had to catch herself against a wall. Nyx had automatically dived for the prince and his little retainer in training, orders leaping to the forefront of his mind from the look of it.

His Majesty and Sol had both managed to stay on their feet, unnervingly enough. Both even had the same expressions on their faces. But where Regis’ next glance was for prince Noctis, _Sol's_ went for the windows.

She wasn't sure what he could see, when he was all the way on the far side of the room from them, but whatever it was that he could see, it all but made him light up in rage.

From zero to eighty, no in between. One moment he looked mildly concerned, and the next, his eyes were glowing red and his hair was floating about his face.

That answered the question about whether or not he had magic, at any rate.

“Regis," Sol said, voice sharp and vibrating oddly in his throat. Almost two toned. “You have your son and your men to care for. This is my problem."

His Majesty stared the other man down, eyes hard, before he gave a rude snort, and strode smoothly towards where Nyx had his Highness and Scientia down on the ground, hovering over them protectively.

“Keep in mind that I don't take orders from you," Regis said, his lips tilting up in a cold smile. "I appreciate the offer to go scout out the problem, however."

Sol's gaze darted back to Regis, his eyes all but sparking in his head.

“A threat to your kingdom is yours to handle by right. But Ardyn? Is _mine.”_ He growled, and Crowe stiffened, the name unsettlingly familiar.

Ardyn, Ardyn…?

“Ardyn _Izunia?”_ Nyx muttered, sounding incredulous.

Crowe resisted the urge to snap her fingers. _That_ was where she'd heard the name before! The Imperial Chancellor!

Sol and Regis paid them no mind, staring each other down harshly. At least until the Citadel rocked again, at which pointed Regis begrudgingly lowered his head in the barest of nods.

“You know who he is. You know _what_ he is," the King said, and Sol _laughed,_ the sound high and mocking.

“Better than you would," he replied, the tone dismissive. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

A dagger flickered into existence in his hand, and he flung it towards the windows. Crowe sucked in a sharp breath, hard enough to make her lungs hurt, when Sol warped out of existence, catching the dagger by the windows. It was the work of seconds for him to get one of the floor to ceiling windows open, and the next moment, he was warping out of the room.

“His magic looks like yours;" she found herself voicing and Nyx nodded wordlessly.

Regis was still, staring after Sol, and then glancing down at the ring on his finger, gaze cold, yet thoughtful.

“Second lieutenant Ulric. Glaive Crowe."

Crowe and Nyx both straightened up immediately, saluting the king on reflex. He nodded shortly at them, then glanced down to where the prince and Scientia were crouched down behind Nyx.

“You will accompany my son and Ignis to the safety bunker. Go.”

"Dad!" The prince snapped, incredulous, wincing a little because the yell had jostled his body enough to strain his still-healing injuries. Scientia laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking worried, but Noctis ignored him in favor of staring down his father.

His Majesty sighed, and stepped forward so he could crouch down and look at his son face-to-face.

“We have discussed responsibilities, my boy. And if this is an attack on the citadel itself…”

“Then the people of Insomnia are in danger.” The prince replied, voice serious.

Crowe knew that he must have had a very different childhood from her own. Hell, most kids had had a childhood different from her own; growing up in the streets on the Frontier, back when the Wall actually went that far, with no one to turn to other that the other street kids. And even the street kids couldn't be trusted, not really. It was everyone for themselves. Survival of the fittest. On the other hand, His Highness Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum had grown up with a freaking diamond spoon in his mouth, in comparison.

And yet, Crowe found that there was still some old, bitter feeling in her that said that a kid as young as the Prince shouldn't have had to look quite so drawn and concerned. Or as serious.

Most of the staff at the Citadel were fond of calling Noctis the Brat Prince of Lucis. It wasn't too mean spirited, except in a few rare cases. But Regis had insisted on allowing his son to grow up as normally as he possibly could, going as far as to enroll him in a public school so that Noctis could get to know his people outside of  controlled press conference meetings. So it was easy to miss the fact that the boy, the brat, was simultaneously being trained to shoulder the burdens of State. In spite of his young age.

The King smiled, look approving.

“Yes. Exactly. And what must a king do when his people are in danger, Noctis?”

“Protect them.” Noctis replied, firm.

Regis nodded at him, and Noctis nodded back, an unexpectedly somber expression on his face when he bid his father farewell.

Regis barely spared her and Nyx a look, but even that fleeting glance of his was enough to make them straighten. Once he’d left, she and Nyx traded glances of their own.

She didn't even have to frown at him, or do anything. Nyx simply crouched down on his haunches, and smiled winningly at the Prince and Scientia. He always _had_ had a way with kids. While Crowe was better off not interacting with _anyone,_ let alone kids who might wind up wailing at the drop of a hat.

“Are you ready, Highness? Young Master?

Noctis and Scientia traded a glance before both looking back up at Nyx and nodding.

“Lead the way. We'll listen to what you tell us.” The Prince declared. The order sounded ridiculous in his high pitched voice, but Crowe couldn't find it in herself to laugh.

“Come on,” she found herself saying, instead. “We'll head towards the bunkers in the basement via the servants’ quarters; that should give us a better chance of avoiding the drama.”

Nyx rolled his eyes at her, looking vaguely amused, but he didn't protest her terminology. United front against the nobles, etc. Even if the nobles in question were a couple of snot nosed kids that were looking to Crowe and Nyx to protect them.

Crowe peeked out through the door, made sure there was nothing untoward waiting for them. And then led them out.

She really hoped this didn't turn out to be more complicated than it had to be.

*

Noctis was expecting it. He'd _been_ expecting it, with every fibre of his being. His time in the crystal, floating in the aether at the mercy of the Astrals, had made him sensitive enough to magic that some things became _very_ hard to ignore.

One didn't so easily forget the taint of the Starscourge.

Ardyn, when Noctis’ armiger chain hit him, looked momentarily stunned. And then, like a dry plain catching fire with the effort of single spark, his features contorted in a snarl of rage, black daemonic taint dripping from his eyes and the corner of his lips like blood.

“What. Did. You. _Do.”_ Ardyn demanded, and Noctis felt his lips bare in a toothy grin, mirroring the expression on the other man's face.

“Fuck if I know. You sure you weren't the one behind this, _old man?_ It would have been so _easy_ to kill the King of Kings when he was just a little snivelling brat, _wouldn't it. “_

Ardyn _laughed,_ the sound as uncomfortably charismatic as it had always been.

“My, how arrogant we've gotten, King Noctis. Oh, but I forgot, being here means that you're back to being a _Prince_ , isn't it. Did you rip your younger self to shreds when you took his place? “

Noctis balked, warping himself out the way of the reaper’s scythe that threatened to cleave him in two.

The image of him reappearing in little Noct’s place, ripping him to bits, sank like a leaden ball into his gut. It distracted him enough that he barely deflected the chain of weapons Ardyn shot at him with his own armiger chain.

“Is that what _you_ did? Rip your counterpart to shreds when you appeared in this world?” Noctis found himself demanding, and Ardyn sneered back at him, no thin veneer of civility in place now.

The road to hell and back that they'd traversed, side by side, hadn't left any spaces between them for polity. Ardyn had seen the worst parts of Noctis, his darkest and most vindictive layers that no one else had seen. Hell, he'd been the reason they'd come to light in the first place.

And Noctis… Noctis had seen the hatred suffusing Ardyn from within; the loneliness and the bitterness of a man who had been forced into ignominy and named a monster through no fault of his own.

They'd both seen into each other, there, at the end. And they'd both, they'd _both,_ been sure that the prophecy, and the balancing act they'd been forced to perform, was finally finished.

And then, Ardyn had awoken to _Niflheim._ To his daemonic horde, and possibly to Verstael. To Eos, after he’d finally reached the Astralsphere, and been promised a chance to rest at long last.

Ardyn roared, managing to slam one of the swords from his armiger right through Noctis’ chest.

Noctis choked, feeling his vision go black at the edges, and warped himself backwards, snatching a high elixir from the Armiger and crushing it in his fingers, allowing the glass to disperse while the blend of the elixir soaked into his skin and then into his veins. His vision cleared immediately, and he felt his magical energy boost as well.

“Did you _plan_ this, Noct?” Ardyn called after him, tone still dripping with fury. “Did you promise us a chance at peace before tearing it away?”

“No!” Noctis snapped back. “Like hell I’d put myself through this willingly after the Crystal and having to fight you at the Citadel. If anyone is to blame, it’s probably the Astrals!”

Ardyn stared him down from the other end of the grounds, slowly spinning the scythe he held in his hands. The movement was hypnotic, but Noctis willed himself to not look away from Ardyn’s gaze.

“...Bahamut?” Ardyn asked, tone carrying the faintest hint of curiosity, and Noctis lowered his head in the barest of nods, sword still held at the ready. Either to warp or to block Ardyn’s next move.

It didn’t seem necessary, though, because the senseless fury that had been coloring Ardyn’s initial attacks seemed to be fading. He even set the haft of the scythe to the ground, leaning against its pole with an exasperated sigh.

“You would think that insufferable Draconian would stop interfering after you actually _did_ what he expected of you.”

Noctis snorted unable to stop himself.

“Man, hope really _does_ spring eternal. Emphasis on the eternal _._ ”

“Rude,” Ardyn drawled back, and Noctis smiled wryly.

He didn’t let his sword fade, not until Ardyn’s scythe shattered like crystal and disappeared. He was sympathetic, and just the slightest bit empathetic, but he wasn’t a damned fool. Not after everything they’d been through.

“Your Grace!”

Noctis blinked, and then waved a hand over his shoulder, not looking away to meet the glaives who had drawn closer. Ardyn watched silently and vaguely amused, his head tilting to the side, and all signs of the Scourge vanishing as though they’d never been there.

“It’s fine. He isn’t a friend, but he won’t attack. Will you?” Noctis added, tone rising questioningly.

Ardyn shrugged, the corner of his lip tugging up just a bit.

“I do believe I am done, for now. I confess, however, that I am at quite a loss. For all my plans, _this_ particular scenario was _not_ one I predicted in advance.”

“Oh?” Noctis replied, a little amused himself. “Is the Man of No Consequence actually stumped, for once?”

“...I’m afraid so. If only because I haven’t yet had the chance to hunt down my answers. Have you questioned _Him,_ as of yet?”

“No,” Noctis admitted, his expression twisting in distaste. “Not only did I not have the chance to do so till now, officially or otherwise, I didn’t have any interest in actually _talking_ to Him.  The smug asshole,” he added, with a grumble under his breath, making Ardyn bark out a surprised laugh.

“My, _someone’s_ feeling rather prickly.”

Noctis shot Ardyn a _look,_ and the older man actually grinned in visible humor, making no attempt to hide just how amused he was.

“Your Grace!”

Noctis and Ardyn both turned to watch, as a new crownsguard rushed forward, the glaives and guards that had already caught up to them immediately making way for her.  When she straightened up, saluting, Noctis blinked, startled, because her face was _familiar_ to him. If younger than he was used to.

“His Majesty has ordered you to the throne room, sir!”

Monica, her hair pulled up in a long, ash blond tail, looked like she could have been anywhere between fifteen and twenty, as ageless as always. Noctis found himself nodding wordlessly in acquiescence, too inured to listening to her without asking too many questions.

Ardyn, for his part, looked like he was willing to play along, if only for the moment. Noctis… couldn’t say he cared, either way. He’d managed to bring down the other man once before, no matter how much it had cost him. And he could do it again.

He would do it, if Ardyn even dared to threaten Regis, Noct, Ignis or any of the others. For all that Noctis could relate to Ardyn’s situation even more than he could before, his friends and family would always, _always_ come first.

So he gave a little shrug, and shot Monica a tight smile, trying to ignore just how fresh faced she looked.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

*

Clarus was pacing restlessly. Again.

Cor stayed at attention to the left of Regis’ throne, trying not to let his eyes wander to the older man’s form as it walked back and forth beneath the large windows of the throne room.

“Clarus,” Weskham sighed, but Regis silenced him with the raise of a single finger, not even bothering to move his hands off of the armrests of the throne.

It didn’t stop Clarus from pausing and shooting a scowl back up at them, obviously. Weskham snorted in amusement.

“And here I thought _Cor_ was our restless child.”

Cor rolled his eyes, not willing to dignify that with a response.

Regis didn’t even waste his breath on a sigh, though, which had to be a bad sign. Wesk, Cor and Clarus’ quarreling always managed to make him smile, at the very least.

Then again, they _did_ have a stranger with the blood of the King confronting a threat to the Citadel. A stranger who had saved Noctis, who could access the magic of the Crystal, and whom they knew absolutely nothing about, outside of the Draconian’s positive judgement of his character.

Regis had plenty to be leery about, as did the rest of them, being the King’s retainers.

When one of Clarus’ younger recruits walked in, head held high, followed by both Regis’ ‘younger brother’ and someone who looked uncomfortably like the man they’d heard reports of, tagging along with Aldercapt and his pet scientist, Cor felt himself go still,  his fingers itching for the hilt of his katana.

Regis, he couldn’t help but notice, didn’t move a muscle. His face looked like it could have been carved from stone.

“May I present Dyne Izunia, lately of Accordo.” Sol offered pleasantly.

“ _Dyne_?” Repeated the man behind him, not sounding very impressed, and Sol pointedly stamped his leg right on top of the other man’s booted foot.

Weskham coughed, clearly hard pressed to hold back his snort of laughter.

“Dismissed.” Regis cut in, glancing at Monica, who bowed before saluting smartly and striding back out the door.

When the door had closed shut behind her, Regis slowly rose to his feet, gaze directed straight at Izunia, who was glancing about himself with avid interest.

“Sol, I would appreciate it if you could explain why, exactly, you’re freely leading this man right into my throne room. It’s not like we both don’t know exactly who he is at this point.”

Sol blinked, and smiled winsomely.

“Would you believe me if I said this was Ardyn Izunia’s doppelganger, and that Ardyn Izunia tragically exploded to smithereens earlier today?”

There was absolute silence, while Cor, Clarus, Wesk and Regis all digested Sol’s words. At least until Izunia coughed lightly, before glancing at Sol with a small smile playing across his lips.

“Are you feeling quite alright, my dear.” Izunia replied, “Surely you’re not accusing me of making someone _explode.”_

Sol’s brows twitched, and he folded his arms defensively.

“My mistake. Should I have accused you of running him through with your blade? Or lopping off heads with a scythe?”

“Quiet, both of you.” Clarus snapped. “Sol, we’d like some answers. His Majesty most of all. And preferably before someone tries to link you, _Ardyn Izunia_ and the attack on Noctis together.”

“Well, so much for maintaining a low profile,” Izunia declared, sounding painfully cheerful, while Sol slapped a hand to his face, looking terribly exasperated.

“Had to make things complicated and send _both_ of us here, didn’t he. Fucking Bahamut.”

“ _Sol.”_ Regis chided, his voice mild, but Cor didn’t actually need to look towards him to know just how cold his eyes had to be.

Cor didn’t blame him. It wasn’t easy to forget how Ardyn Izunia, _Adagium,_ had wreaked havoc on Insomnia, years ago. They’d lost nearly the entirely of the Crownsguard - the attack had been one of the reasons they’d seriously considered the creation of the Kingsglaive unit in the first place. Lethally trained troops capable of using magic had seemed like their only recourse to protect the people of Insomnia, and the rest of Lucis, in a world where the Adagium was walking amongst them, creating daemons and bringing Ifrit’s wrath and flames down on their heads.

Sol slowly drew down his hand, his face carefully blank. He clearly recognized Regis’ tone, if the way he had straightened was anything to judge by.

Cor crossed his arms, glancing around himself subtly. Wesk looked too damn entertained to bother stepping in, too busy observing how things would play out on their own, while Clarus looked like he was a hair’s breadth away from snapping and raising his greatsword against _both_ Izunia and Sol in Regis’ name.

So he sighed, and cleared his throat pointedly, making all gazes in the room snap to him immediately. Izunia and Regis’ included.

It was almost gratifying to watch.

“Explanations, Sol.” Cor said out loud, watching him steadily. “The shorter the better, I think.”

Sol shifted on his feet, looking just a touch awkward.

“...the explanation is easy enough,” he admitted after a moment. “It’s just that, I don’t think any of you would be willing to believe me.”

“Try us.” Cor responded, shooting Clarus a dirty look before he could say whatever was on his mind.

It couldn’t have been anything Clarus would have actually wanted to reveal, at any rate. He’d become so _touchy_ since Noctis and Iris had been born - Clarus had been a total hardass to Gladio and the rest of the Amicitia household’s kids, but ever since Noctis and then Iris had been born, the old man had actually grown _sentimental_ in his overprotectiveness.

Cor had found it amusing, heck, _all_ of them had found it amusing. Gladio included, if their talks were anything to judge by. But sentiment had no room in this discussion - not even when Sol was potentially related to both Regis and Noctis.  Perhaps _especially_ not then.

Sol’s eyes narrowed, his gaze directed straight at Cor. Still visibly dubious.

He glanced aside only when Izunia tapped him on the shoulder. The older man had a faint smile playing across his lips, but even _that_ was hauntingly familiar to Cor. Adagium had been captured in photographs by the more cautious crownsguards belonging to the division of espionage that had been trained solely by Weskham, after all.

“When at a loss, I’ve found the truth is usually the best bet to invest in, dear ‘Sol’.” He murmured, his smile tilting into a smirk when Sol growled in response to the endearment.

“Ardyn-” he started, before abruptly breaking off, glancing back at Regis with a hooded gaze.

Cor was… impressed by just how well everyone in the room managed to control themselves. Even so, Weskham straightened, the smile disappearing from his face, while Clarus hissed out a low curse. Cor’s fingers had jerked, nails digging into his skin in spite of his arms being crossed.

Regis’ expression didn’t change. At all.

“Adagium.” Regis murmured quietly, and the smile disappeared from Izunia’s, _Ardyn_ Izunia’s, face as well.

Sol’s head tilted to the side in visible confusion, but he didn’t hesitate to raise a hand, holding Izunia back when he stepped forward.

Cor dropped his arms, mentally reaching for the katana hidden in his connection to Regis’ armiger when he saw the way the pleasant facade of Izunia’s face had melted to reveal veins of daemonic essence roiling beneath his unhealthily pale skin.

“Don’t,” the man snarled, black filth dripping down his face from the edges of his eyes and mouth. “Don’t call me that. Not now, and not when I’ve been served my end. I did _everything_ that Draconic nuisance demanded of me - I am _done.”_

Sol looked alarmed, turning to face him and reaching out with his other arm as well, bodily stopping Izunia from walking any further. Regis spoke up before he could say anything, though, stepping forward past both Cor and Weskham.

“Silence!” Regis snapped. “You have much to answer for, Adagium, not the least of which are the lives you destroyed when you attacked my city!”

Izunia’s lips split apart in a bestial grin, his eyes all but glowing with madness.

“Oh, you’ll have to excuse me, Your Majesty, I’m afraid the man you’re looking for isn’t me - it would be my younger twin, currently hidden away and biding his time in Gralea. Like I said, _I’ve_ already done my time. He certainly hasn’t.”

“Younger twin?” Clarus cut in, abrupt, his voice hard, dragging everyone’s attention towards himself.

He marched forward to stand facing both Izunia and Sol, his back to the stairs and the rest of them. Cor breathed out sharply,  exchanging a relieved glance with Wesk. Regis might not listen to them, in a haze of anger, but he would _definitely_ listen to Clarus.

Izunia’s mouth opened, the man clearly ready to spit out something condescending, but he was forced to stop when Sol’s hand reached out to cover his lips.

“ _Enough_.”

Cor felt a shiver run down his spine, even as he steadied his stance.

While the resemblance between Sol and Regis had been uncanny ever since the stranger had appeared to save Noctis from the Marilith, it had never been more unnerving than it was in this moment, with Sol’s face set in a calm facade, his entire body held still. Cor didn’t even have to try to sense the magical energy that was escaping from him in waves.

Izunia reached up to close the fingers of one hand around Sol’s wrist, but he made no protests, instead subsiding. Before Cor and the others’ disbelieving gazes, the black melted away from Izunia’s face as though it had never been there, the paleness of his skin warming to something more human simultaneously. His eyes remained golden, however, the sclera still showing veins of black. As though to remind them that the man standing before them was no ordinary mortal, but one cursed by the Astrals Themselves.

“As much as I hate agreeing with him, he’s telling the truth, Your Majesty.” Sol said plainly, addressing Regis instead of Clarus.

When Regis remained wordless, watching him silently, one corner of Sol’s lips twitched up in a bitter half-smile, the expression ugly on his face.

“We’ve _both_ done our time, him and I. If anything, we shouldn’t be here. As far as Bahamut should be concerned, both Ardyn and I should be enjoying our well deserved rest in the Astralsphere right now. Instead, we’re both back on this Star, with no explanation as to why we’ve been sent back. His younger self is in Gralea, as he said, while mine…”

Sol paused there, looking between all of them, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Cor, for his part, stared back, not sure if he wanted to hear the other man complete what he was saying. Not when it sounded as… as _ridiculous_ as it did.

Sol snorted softly, drawing his hand away from Izunia’s face, but not pulling his wrist out of the Accursed’s grasp.

“While mine should be in a bunker with the glaives you assigned to him and Ignis, right about now.”

The silence suffusing the throne room could have been cut with a knife.

Weskham shifted slightly, hesitating only a moment, before breaking the involuntary stalemate with his words.

“What, exactly, are you trying to say, Sol. Be plain.”

Sol shrugged, while Izunia snorted under his breath.

“Couldn’t be plainer, to be honest.” Sol said apologetically, making Clarus growl with displeasure.

“ _Try.”_

“Surprise, we’re from the future, and we’re here because that Draconian menace that you and yours worship couldn’t be bothered to let us rest in peace, even after we did what he asked us to.” Izunia cut in, snide, making Sol chortle with amusement.

“That’s one way to say it, yeah. No, actually, that’s _exactly_ how to say it.” Sol mused, before tapping the knuckles of one hand companionably against Izunia’s chest. “Nice one, Ardyn.”

“My pleasure.” Izunia replied pleasantly, still staring at Clarus with all the deadly focus of an Elder Coeurl poised to strike a lethal blow.

Clarus widened his stance, tilting his head back, clearly ready for anything.

“...and do you have any proof to support these claims?” Regis asked, his voice rising above any potential words that might have been exchanged between Clarus and Izunia.

Sol sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nothing aside from the way we look. And the fact that we’re both clearly connected to that wretched Crystal of Bahamut’s. You want more proof? Throw me the Ring of the Lucii and watch me not die when I slip it onto my middle finger.” he drawled, making Izunia let out a bark of laughter.

“Don’t be prepostro-” Wesk’s exasperated works broke off in sheer shock when Regis actually raised his hand, smoothly removing the Ring adorning his finger and holding it out to Cor.

Cor stared down at the innocent looking ring, and then looked back at Regis, meeting his steady gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and Regis’ head lowered in a silent nod.

Cor didn’t need more than that to accept the ring from his hand, walking down the flight of stair unhurriedly.

Clarus was staring over his shoulder in disbelief, but Sol and Izunia both looked horribly amused.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Sol said, bemused, while Izunia laughed harshly.

“For once, I have to agree with you.” Izunia replied, letting go of Sol’s wrist so the younger man could accept the ring that Cor held out to him.

Sol stared down at the Ring of the Lucii, a complicated weave of emotion twisting across the features of his face before they smoothed out.

“Here’s to hoping you actually _do_ manage to rip me to shreds, you old assholes,” he declared, before slipping on the Ring without any fanfare.

Even as Cor braced himself, it sparked. Bright. It was enough to make Cor shield his eyes, at least until the light subsided.

And nothing more. The Ring remained dormant, and Sol was unharmed, scowling at the band of metal and crystal adorning the middle finger of his right hand.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Izunia quipped.

“Yeah. I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or not.” Sol replied. “I thought Somnus or my grandpa Mors would have had words to say about this for sure.”

There was a loud thump. When Cor looked behind himself, he found that Regis had stumbled back into the throne, looking exhausted and shell-shocked all at once. Weskham and Clarus didn’t look much better. Cor had to assume he looked the same. Even if he couldn’t begin to process what had just happened.

When Cor turned back to face them, Ardyn was smiling again, charming as you please, while his eyes boiled over with dark humor.

“I assume you believe us now?” he asked, while Sol slid the ring off, holding it out to Cor again with a little shrug.

“It appears,” Weskham answered with great dignity, placing a hand on Regis’ shoulder, “That we have no other choice. For now.”

“Finally,” Sol sighed. “I want to take a nap. This morning has been way too charged, damnit.”

Cor moved to return up the stairs, but he paused when Regis spoke, his voice hoarse.

“The Marilith,” he bit out. “What happened with the Marilith, originally? If you’re- If you’re-”

_If you’re_ Noctis _. If you’re my_ son _. What happened to my son when you weren’t there to rescue him?_

Cor stiffened, turning back to Sol and Izunia.

Sol looked painfully surprised at the question, but his expression softened into a gentle smile soon after.

“You saved me, of course. As if anything else could have happened with you on your way there, _dad._ ”

...somehow, that admittance made Cor believe him over anything else. And from the way Clarus stepped up beside him, eyes wide, it had to be the same for him. The rueful affection that colored Sol’s words couldn’t have been been more familiar if he’d tried.

It just figured that Noctis would grow up to sound _exactly_ like Regis did, whenever he remembered the old king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Hello, it's... been an age, guys. I've had this half finished for a while, but the coursework I'm doing right now leaves me no time to write at _all_ these days. My brain's been filled with so many ideas - no joke, I think I have plans for more than 21 fics saved for later. BUT. NO. TIME. TO WRITE.
> 
> That's what happens when you're in the process of switching careers, I guess. [waves] Hello from the land of Animation and VFX.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! **Episode Ardyn** gave me some much needed feels and inspiration ~~and salt~~ for anything Ardyn related, so some of that got incorporated here. I only know the barebones of what happens in DotF, though, so I don't know how much of that is going to show up in this or my other fics. At least until the English Translation becomes available to purchase or read in full.
> 
> **Please consider leaving comments or kudos on your way out!** I really need the inspiration and confirmation that you actually like reading the stories I want to tell. It's about the only thing that makes me come back to writing right now, when coursework is killing me.
> 
> \---
> 
> You can find me **[@adelmortescryche](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com/)** on Tumblr, **[@adelmorte](https://twitter.com/adelmorte)** on Twitter and **[@adelmortescryche](https://www.instagram.com/adelmortescryche/)** on Instagram. Come hmu whenever! I'd love to chat about RPGs/anime/fandom/etc.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Two of Noctis. The Ardyn/Noctis is between the time traveling Noctis and Ardyn. And anyway, romance isn't central to this. Saltiness is. As is ripping Aldercapt's plans to bits. Not to mention Verstael.
> 
> I, too, would be salty if I went through everything Noct and Ardyn did, only to wake up and have to do everything over again.
> 
> This is one of my NaNo WIPs! Wish me luck.
> 
> Please consider leaving comments and kudos on your way out.
> 
> \---
> 
> You can find me **[@adelmortescryche](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com/)** \- come by and say hi! I don't bite.


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